Why does inertia have so much influence over our lives? What is it that can make us want to do something for a long, long time and yet we just don’t? I blame inertia but I can’t seem to put my finger on what causes the inertia. Sometimes it’s as simple as a bad night’s sleep. The next day is spent just trying to stay awake. But other times, when lack of sleep isn’t to blame, why don’t I do the things I say and think that I want to do?

Some of the things are simple….pick up that piece of trash on the floor….umm, no, thanks…I will instead choose to walk by it 5, 10 or perhaps 25 times before I finally decide to take the half of second it needs for me to deal with it. But as soon as I take care of it, I feel better. Funny that such a simple thing can bring relief yet I don’t choose to simply pick it up, the first time I see it. What gives??

Then there’s the bigger things….projects, jobs, dreams….I get where some of that inertia comes from. These things require time and effort. They may require skills I don’t yet have, connections with people I don’t yet know. Maybe I don’t want to start one more thing that I might not finish. Maybe I’m afraid I’ll fail. Maybe deep down I don’t really want to do it or maybe I think it’s not worthy of my time.

I’m trying to de-clutter my life these days. Honestly, I started the process 16 years ago but with five small kids at the time, my attention was often diverted elsewhere. And as kids grow, de-cluttering means getting rid of the past. That’s hard. For a long time I found it impossible to let stuff go.

So over the last year I started looking at de-cluttering in a different way. It wasn’t just about getting rid of stuff….although I have doggedly been doing that. I started in January with de-cluttering addictions. First to sugar, and most recently caffeine. Controlling the will and ultimately changing what the will wants is a long slow process. It takes a lifetime. But I’ve learned it is possible.

Then I challenged my lifelong distaste (bordering on hatred actually) of exercise. I started exercising most days, last summer. But then the cool weather kicked in and I quit making the effort. I started again this past summer and learned the difference between doing something because you should and doing something because you want to. The longer I did it the more benefit I started to see and slowly, very slowly, I began to want to do it because it makes me feel better.

With each victory over my old stubborn will of downright refusal, I felt lighter….slightly less cluttered. But inertia is still the enemy. It whispers how busy i am – there can’t be time to exercise….how deprived I am…so many foods you can’t eat! It tells me other things matter more. Some days I listen to those whispers. Most days now, I listen a lot less.

All this makes me wonder….has inertia ever been a problem for you? Do certain circumstances provoke it in you? How do you move beyond it? I’d love to know.

Having served in the Air Force, my father retired from the military as a Major. Even 40+ years after his retirement he was still introducing himself as Major Tom. I remember his pleasure when this song came out in 1983.

Several days passed after my hearing it on the radio. My siblings and I had started sleeping over my parents house in anticipation of my father dying. We did not want to leave him and my mother to walk through that valley alone.

The night before my dad died, my brother and I were sleeping over my parent’s house. I had woken up around 3pm to see if my father needed his meds. He was alive but quiet, I decided to leave him alone. I went back to sleep. Shortly after 5 am, I was startled awake. A sense of urgency caused me to jump up and rush into the room where my father was. I slipped beside his bed and listened. My brother had been in a recliner beside my dads bed. He rested his hand on my fathers chest and we both looked for signs of life. We quietly called his name. For the first time in our lives, there was no response.

Back at ground control -There is a problem“Go to rockets full” – Not responding“Hello, Major Tom – Are you receiving?Turn the thrusters on – We’re standing by”There’s no reply……..

My brother assumed the awful role of going to tell my mother. While he was waking and then telling her, I had a chance to one last time tell my father thank you. To tell him, he had been a good dad. I told him I loved him and I was going to miss him. As my mother entered the room, I left to call my other brothers and sister. And so began the truly, most exhausting day of my life.

Earth below us – Drifting, fallingFloating weightless – Coming home….

By mid afternoon, I arrived home. The mortician had come and taken my dads body, calls had been made, events set in motion. The trip to the florist has been forever stamped in my mind. As my sister and I sat there trying to pick out flowers that would somehow express the magnitude of our love for this man, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion. Every movement and thought was an exercise of sheer will power. My physical body and my emotions were tapped of all strength. When I finally arrived home I laid down on my bed, too tired to even cry.

As I laid there, I sent a friend a text telling her what had happened. Her texted response, “Oh, Beth, I’m so sorry!” was spoken into my heart as if she had said it out loud to me. The sincerity of those words had an effect on me that I still can not describe. My broken heart responded with a relieving flood of tears.

Desperate for something to soothe the pain, the song I had heard a few days before came to mind. I found it on youtube and within minutes was listening, and sobbing and unknowingly starting down the path to healing.

The words continued to comfort me in the days and weeks following my fathers death. My father was like that astronaut in the song, heading into the unknown. My Dad understood that dying would be his last mission. He knew that he was heading into uncharted territory. A countdown had begun. We all knew it as we gathered around him in his last days of life. In his last week of life, He repeatedly asked about my mother, did we know where the paperwork was? We reminded him, he had done a good job, that he had made sure her needs would be met. And we were here. We would take over. He could rest.

Far beneath the ship – The world is mourning

They don’t realize – He’s alive

No one understands – But Major Tom sees

“Now the light commands – This is my home – I’m coming home”

These lines in particular give me peace. He is no longer here because he’s gone home. My mind wants to war with that idea. We are his home, it cries! But that is not the truth. We were part of a place he called home for 88 years but his true home, where he will spend eternity, is not here. And I am reminded that he is very much alive. His soul, the truest part of him, has not died. He has gone ahead. Not with a goodbye. For those of us who believe, his death comes with a simple thought – ‘I’ll see you later….at home.’

It happened while I was driving in my car. My brother made some cd’s right after my dad died. A collection of songs that my dad loved and ones that reminded us of him. Over a year later I’m still listening to them. But then I also have other songs I listen to. Songs that reflect my processing of his aging, dying and death.

So, there I was driving, my music was playing and I was thinking of my dad and I realized something had shifted in my thinking.

Before he died, I worried about how I would survive without him.

After he died, I discovered survival is not only possible, it’s the only viable option.

But I missed him. The loss of his physical presence was overwhelming. Some days it would be crushing and on other days it was and is, merely a dull ache.

Until last week. When I realized that through his death, I gained something I didn’t anticipate. When he was alive he was often on my mind. His influence was steady in my life. But there were moments, and stretches of time where I went about my life not thinking, consciously, too much about him.

Until he died.

As I passed the one year mark, I realized he is with me now in a way he wasn’t when he was alive. I feel him with me. Not in some sort of ghostly way. But somehow I feel like he has become a part of me, a part of my skin and my bones, my heart and my mind.

And I realize, that’s a gain.

Don’t misunderstand me. I’d take him back, in his old physical form in a flash. Without hesitation, I’d give up this new feeling for a more tangible one I can wrap my arms around.

But that’s not an option. The realization of what I’ve gained, despite the loss, is a gift. It’s one I think I don’t fully appreciate yet because it’s new. I was use to my old relationship with my dad. It was comfortable and safe and known.

This new relationship is more really, a relationship with myself. All that he has instilled in me, now seeks to be given life. He is not here to protect me, to save the day, to provide for me. I must do it without him. But he didn’t leave me empty handed. He left both my hands and my heart full.

I feel compelled to act where he once would have. I am still completely me, but now, I am also more.
And since the only choice I have in this matter, is how I respond to this gift, I choose to embrace it.